


Olympic Tryouts (part 19)

by jennamacaroni



Series: Olympic Tryouts [19]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennamacaroni/pseuds/jennamacaroni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana and Brittany have been rivals in the college hockey world for the past four years.  now they’re both at Olympic tryouts to play on the same team and Boston and Minnesota just don’t get along, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olympic Tryouts (part 19)

**Author's Note:**

> between nayas-sports-bra (tumblr) inundating me with ot headcanons for three days straight, watching miracle on my plane ride home the other day, a fucking heya picture from the glee set and the NHL starting up again in less than twenty days, my ot feels are nearly so overwhelming i can think of nothing else but these stupid fucking hockey players and their stupid fucking love story. thank you all for reading and coming along for the ride. also, if anyone has any headcanons of their own they’d like to share, i would love to hear and who knows, they may one day end up in the fic. my askbox is always open (jennamacaroni dot tumblr dot com) or drop a review. happy weekend, y’all.
> 
> also, i’ve been thinking about making a kind of “hockey 101” reference page since some of the terms and stuff i use may make no sense to some. let me know if there’s interest in that.

At the referee’s whistle, Santana glides up into the center circle resting her weight along the stick pressed across the tops of her knee pads, eyes trained to the Finnish player skating up to meet her for the second period puck-drop. The Finnish captain Ella Linna is nearly a head taller than Santana and her eyes a piercing icy gray as they stare each other down over center ice. They finally break eye contact at the referee’s call and ready their sticks in mid-air. Santana watches the puck drop in slow motion, perfectly timing the swipe of her stick to beat Linnen and flick the puck quickly backwards towards Quinn. It’s only her second faceoff win of the night, but she can’t help but grin at Linnen who seems borderline offended she got beat. 

“You better get used to it!” Santana shouts over her shoulder, taking off into the offensive zone after Quinn dumps the puck behind the Finnish net.

Brittany hustles to beat her defender to the puck and flicks it quickly along the back boards to Rachel who collects it easily and finds Santana cutting to goal. The pass hits her stick square and she takes one touch to look up at the goal before firing a quick wrist shot that beats the Finland goaltender right between the legs.

Only twenty seconds into the second period and Santana has cut Finland’s lead in half.

As her teammates huddle around her, hugging and celebrating, Santana catches Brittany in an open-mouthed grin and laughing giddily, her frustrated attitude from intermission quickly evaporated as she throws her arms around Santana haphazardly.

“Guess I gotta score one now, huh?” Brittany jokes, patting her on the helmet.

“You’re not scoring more than me,” Santana scoffs, throwing Brittany a confident grin as they make their way back to the face off. “But good luck!”

_____

Santana’s quick goal proves to be the catalyst needed to ignite the young US team into a much better second period of play, the momentum very obviously shifted now in favor of the Americans. They are possessing the puck better through the central third of the ice and the quick speed of the attackers has the Finnish defense constantly a step behind.

Santana wins her fourth straight face off in the circle to the right of the Finland net, again getting the puck back to Quinn lined up over her right shoulder. This time, however, Quinn has a hard time handling the pass and it bounces away from her just before a Finland winger plows full speed into her, lifting her off her skates and landing hard onto the ice. The hit garners a collective groan from the crowd and Quinn is slow to get up. As the referee raises an arm and blows the whistle to indicate a penalty, Santana is already up in the face of the offender, knocking their facemasks together.

“Hit her again and you’ll have another thing coming,” she warns, shoving the Finnish player in hard in the chest and knocking her slightly off balance.

Brittany is at her shoulder in an instant, tugging her by the back of the jersey and away from the confrontation. “Easy, killer,” Brittany warns, “we’ve got a power play and Q is fine.” She nods across to Quinn who is now back on her feet but Santana continues glares towards the penalty box as she skates over to their teammate.

“You good, Q?” she asks, tapping Quinn’s leg pads lightly with her stick.

“Yeah,” she answers, shortly. “Get me that puck. I want to rip one.”

“You got it. Listen up!” Santana calls, gathering Brittany, Rachel and Tina around Quinn for a quick huddle. “We’re a player up so Britt, I want you to get to the front of the net as fast as you can for the screen, Rachel you’ll be on the backside in case of a rebound. Quinnie here is feeling like cranking one from the point so I’m going to make that happen for her. Everyone got it?” They all nod in agreement before skating off to set up for the face off.

Again, Santana wins it cleanly and sends it perfectly to Quinn who winds up and hits a hard slap shot on goal. Brittany redirects the puck in mid-air with the shaft of her stick and it ends up directly in front of Rachel who puts it easily into the back of the net. The crowd erupts in cheers and just like that the hockey game is tied.

_____

With two minutes left in the final period and the game still knotted up at two each, Coach Taylor calls a timeout. As the team huddles around the bench area, Coach draws out a quick play onto his clipboard.

“Butthead line, you’re up. Pierce, you’re taking the face off this time. Lopez, take the right. Your defender has been cheating in from that spot all night long and it’s time we burn her. Pierce, you win that puck, hold it in your skates long enough to get Lopez’s defender to commit, then hit Lopez in front who will one-time the shot,” he explains, diagramming the play. The four involved nod in understanding. 

“All right hands in,” he calls, pulling the team in for a cheer. “ _Who do you play for_?”

“USA!” they scream collectively, before breaking back out onto the ice.

The play works perfectly and this time Brittany tackles her so hard in celebration that she ends up flat on her back on the ice, all of her teammates piled into a heap on top of her.

_____

“Listen up! Listen up,” Coach Taylor calls, barely audible over the whoops and cheers among the players still congratulating each other in the locker room after the game. He clears his throat as the chatter dies down and holds up a puck. “Game puck goes to Quinn.” He nods in her direction and tosses it lightly from the center of the room. “You were poised, made smart decisions, came back from a big hit with a great shot on net that led to a goal and your defensive play helped hold them to no second or third period scores. Good work,” he congratulates.

He waits for the cheers to die down before continuing. “We started slow but we picked it up after that first abysmal period. Showed some toughness, some resiliency, and overall I’m happy we were able to fight back and win.” Santana thinks it almost sounds like a compliment, but knows Coach Taylor is far from satisfied with their play, especially her own.

“Dressed and ready in an hour, y’all,” Coach Roz calls out across the room before turning to follow Coach Taylor out of the room.

The second the door shuts, Quinn is on her feet and stalking towards Santana’s locker, her pads still on from the waist down as she shucks off her elbow pads and tosses them back over her shoulder en route. She grabs Santana’s tshirt and roughly yanks her off the stool in front of her locker and drags her across the room by the collar.

“Jeez, Quinn,” Santana yelps, trying not to trip over her own skate laces that are loose and trailing across the floor. She catches Brittany’s concerned but somewhat amused look just in time to be unceremoniously thrown out into the hallway and face-to-face with her best friend.

“Out with it, then,” Quinn demands, scowling.

“Good game to you, too. You don’t waste any time, huh?” Santana evades, rubbing at her neck where she was just wrangled.

“I’ve known you a long time, S, and I’ve _never_ seen you act like this,” Quinn accuses, poking her hard in the shoulder. “You’re drooling like a lovestruck puppy over breakfast, play the sloppiest first period of your life today and then you and Brittany disappear and when you’re back on the ice it’s like the light flipped on and you’re back to normal. I know something is going on,” she pauses, waiting. “You can’t even make eye contact right now!” Quinn ducks slightly into Santana’s line of sight and forces it.

“We kissed,” Santana says in a rush, throwing a paranoid look over both shoulders to ensure they’re alone. “Last night. We were sharing the same bed and…”

“And your tongue just ended up down her throat?” Quinn interrupts, accusingly.

“If your asking if I initiated it, I didn’t!” Santana defends in a hushed whisper. “I mean, I can’t say I tried to stop her, exactly…” she trails off and Quinn scoffs, pressing her hand to her forehead.

“S…” It sounds like a warning.

“It’s different, Q,” Santana urges, fighting to find the words to best explain what last night with Brittany meant to her. That this wasn’t just a stupid crush. “Fireworks,” she breathes, grabbing Quinn’s hand and squeezing it for emphasis. “I know that’s the sappiest way to describe it but fucking Disney World grand finale light-up-the-sky-so-bright-it-looks-like-it’s-daytime _fireworks_. When I’m with her I feel alive in way I never have before and I’m fucking scared out of my mind about it.” Santana stops babbling to take a deep breath to try and slow her rapidly beating heart.

They’re interrupted by the creaking opening of the locker room door and Brittany poking her head out tentatively. “Everything okay out here?”

Quinn looks back and forth between Brittany and Santana through slightly squinted and calculating eyes. “You and I aren’t done,” she decides, shoving Santana in the shoulder and turning push past Brittany and back inside.

“I’m going to take a wild guess as to what that was about,” Brittany says sarcastically, taking the few steps to close the distance between her and Santana and reaching to grab at the suspenders still holding up Santana’s pads, tugging them lightly. Santana marvels how just having Brittany close by lessens her stress level dramatically.

“Quinn can read me like a book,” Santana explains, smiling shyly up at Brittany’s look of concern. “She’s been hinting for a week now that she knows something is going on between us and after breakfast and my crappy first period today, I kind of had no choice but to tell her. I’m sorry B, I know we wanted to keep this between us,” she laments, resting a hand on Brittany’s hip and tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Don’t worry about it, San, we’ll figure it out,” Brittany soothes, snapping the suspenders playfully. “We’ll talk to her, make sure she knows that the team comes first. Now come on, we’ve got Doc-mandated ice baths before we’re allowed to get outta here and my tummy’s a rumblin’ if ya know what I mean.”

Santana groans at the ice bath because they are the worst but grabs at the back of Brittany’s tshirt as she turns to leave, spinning her back around and pulling her closer. Santana bypasses her lips to whisper huskily into her ear. “I scored more goals than you, butthead. What do I win?”

Brittany seems at a loss for words and Santana kisses her cheek playfully, taking off back into the locker room and leaving Brittany breathless.


End file.
